


A Slow Fall Towards Grace - Snippets

by glimmerglanger



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: All Warnings from "A Slow Fall Towards Grace" Apply, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fix-It, M/M, Snippets and Prompts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:16:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 10,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27973603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glimmerglanger/pseuds/glimmerglanger
Summary: A collection of prompt fills from tumblr for my fic "A Slow Fall Towards Grace." Really...doesn't make much sense without reading that one first. Please check out all the warnings before reading either fic!
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Quarsh Panaka
Comments: 50
Kudos: 220





	1. Obi-Wan and Panaka After Naboo (Heat/Explicit)

**Author's Note:**

> Another prompt collection! This first chapter is Obi-Wan's heat after the incident on Naboo. Obi-Wan/Panaka.

Running into a Jedi was a rare thing on a planet as peaceful as Naboo. Running into two of them - working alongside them to protect Queen and country - was unprecedented, in Quarsh’s experience. He’d not spent much time around either Jedi, and certainly never expected to see the sole survivor again.

It was, therefore, a surprise when he heard that the Jedi had returned to the palace, apparently with his new apprentice and some strange woman in tow. Quarsh granted them leave to land and watched, from a distance, as Queen Amidala greeted them, ushering them into a private meeting.

The Jedi - Kenobi - looked… different than Quarsh remembered him. His hair was growing out, shaggy around his ears and the braid he’d worn before was gone. He still smiled, but there was… a brittleness to the expression.

But perhaps that was to be expected. He’d lost his mentor, as Quarsh understood it, still been holding the man’s body when the guards finally found him. He also smelled  _ wonderful _ , but that, Quarsh knew, was neither here nor there. Some stranger’s heat was no business of his, no matter how lovely Kenobi might have been.

He left the Jedi delegation and Queen Amidala to their business, granting himself only one considering look towards Kenobi. He had his own work to attend.

#

Quarsh’s work was interrupted, some time later, by the very figure who had been occupying his distracted thoughts. He’d taken his paperwork out into one of the palace gardens, hoping to clear his head in the fresh air, and straightened when Kenobi stepped through the door.

Kenobi stood, for a moment, on the garden path, looking upward and doing nothing but breathing. Quarsh watched him, pen lifted and forgotten in one hand. The fading light of the sun caught on Kenobi’s hair, bringing out tinges of copper. His robes hid his body, but Quarsh had seen him move, seen the lithe strength in his limbs, and--

Quarsh swallowed, looking away hurriedly when Kenobi turned to look at him, raising an eyebrow.

“Captain,” Kenobi said, mouth twitching just a little as he took a step closer. “Would you mind some company?”

Quarsh felt his heart speed up, an involuntary reaction to Kenobi’s bright, sharp eyes. He stood, inclining his head. He said, “Not at all.” He drew in a breath, stomach getting tighter at the scent that curled into his lungs. His cock gave a little twitch, and he swallowed, wrestling control back from his baser instincts. “Have you eaten?”

“I’m not hungry,” Kenobi said, stepping closer to him, enough to see that there were dark circles under those bright eyes. His cheeks looked sharper than they had last Quarsh saw him, but his mouth looked just as fascinating.

Kenobi stopped a step away - far too far, really - and said, softly, “I find myself in need of some assistance, Captain.”

Quarsh swallowed, working not to make an assumption. He cleared his throat and asked, voice gruffer anyway, “I’d be happy to assist you. What do you need help with?”

Kenobi flashed him a fast smile, took another step forward and glanced up at him, eyelashes catching Quarsh’s attention along with the faint spread of freckles across the bridge of his nose. He said, quietly, “It’s something I’d rather discuss in your quarters.”

Quarsh had work. But nothing, he decided, abruptly, that could not wait. He’d heard stories about the Jedi, the kinds of lovers they made, and Kenobi was…. Gorgeous. He nodded and said, “Of course.” Kenobi did not jerk away when Quarsh put a hand on his back to lead him through the halls of the palace.

#

Kenobi took off his heavy robes inside Quarsh’s rooms, draped the fabric over a chair and turned to take in the look of the place. Quarsh took in the look of  _ him _ . Cream colored robes covered him almost completely. Quarsh had spent the entire walk through the palace wondering what was under them.

He cleared his throat, turned to the side, and asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Why not,” Kenobi said and followed Quarsh into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as Quarsh made them both a drink. Kenobi drank it in a swallow, apparently unbothered by the burn of the liquor, and sat the cup aside. He asked, raising one eyebrow, “Would you like to help me?”

Quarsh inhaled, sharply. He held Kenobi’s gaze and asked, because he needed to know for sure, “With your heat?”

Kenobi’s mouth quirked, there and gone. He said, “Yes, with my heat. I… don’t have infinite time. I need to return to my apprentice, and I understand if you don’t want to--”

Quarsh took a step towards him, instinctual, because the idea of Kenobi going somewhere else suddenly rankled. He said, watching Kenobi’s eyes widen, “I’m happy to help.” Kenobi’s breath caught when Quarsh got closer, when Quarsh put a hand on either side of his hips and leaned down.

And he did not mind, overmuch, when Kenobi turned his face to the side. He brushed a kiss to the line of Kenobi’s jaw, instead of his mouth, and back to his throat, and listened to the sweet, thick sound Kenobi made in response to the pressure,  _ very  _ happy to help.

#

He got Kenobi’s robes off, right there in the kitchen, and found the skin beneath to be soft and warm, more freckles revealed across his shoulders and chest, the tops of his thighs. Kenobi was all muscle and scars, more of them than Quarsh would have expected. 

He was also singularly determined, clever fingers working at the closures on Quarsh’s uniform, shoving it aside, gasping when Quarsh lifted him enough to get him on the counter. It wasn’t quite the right height, but Quarsh was sure he could make it work.

Kenobi flushed red down his neck when Quarsh sank into him, and the color spread beautifully down his chest, even as he sunk his teeth into his bottom lip, head falling back, intoxicating sounds escaping his throat with each thrust.

#

Quarsh discovered that everything they said about Jedi lovers was true. He discovered, also, that he very much wanted to kiss Kenobi by the time he’d driven inside the final time, knot swelling to tie them close together.

Kenobi leaned back on his hands, breathing hard, legs curled loose around Quarsh’s hips. There was a sheen of sweat over his skin and his hair stuck to his forehead and Quarsh’s cock jerked. He could not help but tighten his grip on Kenobi’s hips, watching his eyes slit open at the sensation, mouth crooking up.

“Enjoying yourself so far?” Kenobi asked, and Quarsh groaned, leaning forward, relieved when, after a moment’s hesitation, Kenobi shifted enough to kiss him.

#

Kenobi did not stick around, after. He rolled from the bed - they’d made it there before the third time - and went about gathering up his clothing while Quarsh was still dazed. “Not staying until morning?” Quarsh asked, pushing up on one arm, feeling… well sated and exhausted.

“I need to return to--”

“Your apprentice,” Quarsh interrupted, with a pang of regret that he would not get to wake up beside Kenobi. “I recall.”

Kenobi nodded, covering up all the skin that he’d revealed with steady, sure hands. He smiled over his shoulder as he pulled on the under tunic, and said, “I do appreciate your help, though. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Quarsh said, and enjoyed the way it made color stain across Kenobi’s cheeks. He flopped onto his back after Kenobi left, staring up at the ceiling, so infinitely satisfied. He whistled, in the emptiness of his room, and murmured, “Kriffing  _ hell _ .”

And he hoped, over the months that followed, that perhaps he might receive other unexpected visits from a certain Jedi. 


	2. Cody and Obi-Wan (Post-Fic, Pregnancy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is set after the fic, just some sweet comfort and Cody's POV on Obi-Wan's pregnancy.

Cody had never forgotten seeing Obi-Wan for the first time, standing in a warship, wearing barely any armor and visibly… rounded at the middle. People came in all kinds of shapes and sizes, he’d learned on Kamino, and so his condition had not clicked at first.

Cody’d gotten information about the condition quickly, once he knew, gotten to watch the entire process unfold, up close and personal.

He got to watch it again, after the war. It was a relief, as their child grew, to know that Obi-Wan did not  _ have  _ to charge into a battlefield. Cody had not hesitated to put his body between Obi-Wan and blaster fire, even only a few weeks into their acquaintance, and he would have again.

But he was relieved he didn’t have to.

He watched, the war fading further and further into the past, as the weeks slid into months. The first time he slid a hand down Obi-Wan’s stomach, stepping up behind him as he made them both tea, and felt a curve he froze, brain temporarily going offline. Obi-Wan made a questioning sound, looking over his shoulder. 

And Cody had just… needed to kiss him, tugging him around and pulling him forward, knocking the burner off when the water started to boil, a moment later. It could wait, he thought, and abruptly he could not.

They made it to the couch, which felt like an accomplishment, with how badly he needed to tug off Obi-Wan’s tunic, to put his hands on skin. He scattered kisses everywhere, and could not stop the curve of his hand across Obi-Wan’s stomach, when he fitted them together.

“I thought it might bother you,” Obi-Wan said, afterwards, reclined against him all sheened in sweat and loose-limbed.

“What?” Cody asked, nuzzling kisses against his throat, leaving his scent behind everywhere he could. 

“This.” Obi-Wan tapped the back of his hand, still pressed against his stomach, and Cody blinked, trying to figure out what he even meant. 

“The pregnancy?” he asked, and Obi-Wan made a faint, affirmative noise, as though--as though he didn’t know how much Cody liked it, how much he’d wanted it, how much-- Cody shifted, put fingers on his jaw and tilted his head, enough to make eye contact, enough to say, “I’m not bothered. I’m--kriffing in awe, Obi-Wan.”

And he heard Obi-Wan’s breath punch out, had to kiss him, and if the kissing led to more, led to Obi-Wan clinging to his shoulders and stuttering over his name, well, then, that was quite alright with him, too.

#

They weren’t fighting battles anymore, but Cody would never forget how Obi-Wan looked when he was hurt. He’d always hidden it, almost reflexively, but the proof was there in the way he stood and the tightness of his mouth, the way he rubbed, sometimes, at his back as the weeks passed.

“Come here,” Cody said, watching Obi-Wan very carefully not wince in their quarters. 

Obi-Wan glanced over at him and asked, “Hm, why?”

“Because I have an idea,” he said, which was, thankfully, enough to get Obi-Wan to come over and sit down.

Obi-Wan said, “Oh, this kind of idea,” as Cody tugged at the closures of his tunic, and Cody snorted, shaking his head.

He’d spoken with the healers and with the medics. He’d read everything he could find about what was going on. He’d done all of it years ago, but, at the time, it hadn’t felt appropriate to offer to put hands on Obi-Wan’s body.

This time, he did not hesitate to stroke his thumbs down the sides of Obi-Wan’s spine, to knead at the tense muscles across his lower back, listening to him make a terrible, hurt sound even as he bent forward. “Does that help?” Cody asked, worried he might only make it worse; his hands were made for fighting, causing pain, not--

“Yes,” Obi-Wan rasped out, head hanging forward, “that’s--amazing.”

And Cody smiled, warmth moving through him, getting rid of the hurt until Obi-Wan was pliant and agreeable, and, well, if they ended up tangling together, that always relaxed Obi-Wan, as well.


	3. Bruck (Mentioned Bruck/Obi-Wan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruck's POV from his run-in with Obi-Wan in Chapter One.

Bruck went back to his quarters after his… run-in with Obi-Wan; his throat tight and his stomach aching, unpleasantly. He tried to meditate and couldn’t, ending up springing back to his feet each time he sat down.

He’d… never gotten on well with Obi-Wan. Always felt strange around him, uncomfortable in his own skin. It had gotten worse as they’d gotten older, when he’d started to recognize the ache in his gut when Obi-Wan rolled those blue eyes or scowled with his full mouth or--

Bruck hadn’t  _ wanted  _ the feelings, shamed by the way he couldn’t even control his own body, sometimes. He hadn’t like the way just being too close to Obi-Wan… did things to him. His Master had eventually pulled him aside and had a talk with him about it. He’d even talked with the mind healers, a bit, about his reactions and handling them better.

Things had felt like they were making more sense.

And then Obi-Wan had found him in a hallway, and Bruck hadn’t  _ meant  _ to put hands on him, but Obi-Wan had kissed him, had pulled him into a little closet, had  _ pulled open his robes _ , and--

And Bruck had never felt anything that was half as good as kissing him. He couldn’t, actually, imagine anything ever feeling better than he’d felt when they were together. It had been… amazing. A revelation.

Realizing that Obi-Wan was  _ weeping _ had soured all of that. He hadn’t noticed at first, because Obi-Wan wasn’t making sounds, his shoulders weren’t shaking, and he’d been, well. Facing away. It had only been when Bruck leaned forward, thinking another kiss might be nice, perhaps a soft one, on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, that he’d noticed the tears.

The shock of it had torn through the dizzying pleasure. It had been a relief to be able to step back, some time later. He felt sick inside, unsure what he’d even done wrong, because Obi-Wan wouldn’t tell him, had claimed that it wasn’t him, as though that even made sense.

He ended up pacing out of his quarters, again, with no set destination in mind. His wanderings, eventually, brought him into contact with the gossip network at the Temple. Everyone was abuzz, it seemed, about something Vos had told one of his idiot friends, who’d told someone else, who told Bruck that Vos had dropped Obi-Wan earlier in the day.

Bruck was still turning that over in his head by the time dinner rolled around.

#

It was almost a relief when Vos passed behind his table in the dining hall and stopped, taking a pointedly deep breath. Bruck considered, scowling into his soup, that he likely still smelled like Obi-Wan. They’d gotten… very close.

His theory was confirmed a moment later, when Vos gripped his shoulder and tugged at him, demanding, “What did you do to Obi-Wan?”

Bruck felt itchy under his skin as he scowled up, narrowing his eyes. “I don’t see how what I did  _ with  _ Obi-Wan is any of your business, Vos.”

He watched Vos’s jaw clench, watched his eyes get harder. Bruck had never had a vision before. He didn’t think he was having one, in the dining hall, but he knew, anyway, roughly how the next five minutes were going to go.

Vos hit him, first. That was what he told Master Windu, after they were pulled apart.

Vos tried to hit him first, again, the second time, after Master Windu made them shake hands and Bruck leaned close enough to hiss, “You made him cry, you know. While I was doing what you wouldn’t--”

In the end, he ended up sent to his quarters for the rest of the night, to receive appropriate discipline from his Master. He found he didn’t really mind, so much, even with his eye aching and his bottom lip split.


	4. Cody with Kei-Donn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Post-Ending snippet with Obi-Wan's POV regarding his little family.

The sheer number of responsibilities Obi-Wan had juggled fell off in the weeks and months that followed the end of the war. They did not all disappear. He still had work to do on the Council, missions to handle, decisions to make.

Sometimes, the meetings lasted for hours on end. Occasionally, they stretched from morning until evening. He left one such Council meeting with a headache, tired just from talking. Still, it was a relief to know he didn’t have to go board a ship: there were no droids to fight, no war to wage.

All he had to do was slip down to the residential area of the Temple, to the crèche, where he could feel bright, sweet warmth calling to him. He exhaled as he stepped through the doors, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders. He nodded to one of the crèche masters, who waved back, before gesturing down a garden path.

Obi-Wan did not need the directions, but appreciated them nonetheless. 

He found Cody standing by one of the Temple’s fountains - shallow, just in case any of the younglings wandered off on their own - walking in slow circles around it, murmuring softly. He had Kei-Donn curled in his arms, their son gurgling nonsense sounds up to him, one arm waving through the air, his other hand fisted in Cody’s white tunic.

Behind them, some of the older children were playing tag, tumbling one another around and shouting, all full of boundless energy. Dal-Voe appeared to be “it,” if he were reading the situation correctly, her hair streaming back as she sprinted across the field.

Obi-Wan froze to a stop, his chest aching unexpectedly as he looked across the scene. It was...everything he’d never allowed himself to imagine. A dream he’d forgotten how to even consider during the war. 

All of them were safe. Happy. He could feel the joy radiating out of Cody, a sense of contentment that was matched by the baby-simple delight from Kei-Donn, happy just to be held, to have someone making sounds at him, and Dal-Voe’s satisfaction as she tagged another of her fellows, and, encompassing all of that, nothing but love.

Force, Obi-Wan wasn’t even sure how much of it was coming from him. He felt overfull, bursting with emotion that he could not fathom completely. Cody had given him - without cost or protest - so much, and he ached with it.

He was still frozen when Cody looked over at him, though he was almost certain he had not made a sound. “We were wondering when you were going to get here,” Cody said, a smile curving his mouth as he stretched out a hand. “What are you waiting for? Come over here.”

And Obi-Wan remembered how to breathe again, heart full of sweet joy, and went to him, took his hand, and kissed him, there under the summer sun, Kei-Donn squirming between them and Dal-Voe’s laughter filling up the air.


	5. Bly and Cody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during the chapter 5-6 range. Bly's thoughts about Cody being head-over-heels for his General.

Cody had always been serious and focused. Bly knew perfectly well that there was a reason his brother had been selected as Marshal Commander, over all of the rest of them. He’d shown tremendous potential, the ability to stay on-task, and all the rest of the qualities the Kaminoans loved to expand on.

He was also, Bly realized, during that long first year of the war, completely out-of-his-head about his Jedi.

Cody had already been on the front for months by the time Bly got out there. Everyone who couldn’t fight had watched the battles unfold with a pervading sense of tension. Bly was far from the only one to obsessively review the information they got about the battles.

The first time he watched Cody bodily jump onto a droid he shook his head. The fact that Cody had done it to protest the Jedi beside him had been hardly of note, at the time. And then the  _ Negotiator  _ had come back to Coruscant and Bly had spotted his brother carrying a kriffing  _ baby _ and, well…

Bly had really thought it all strange, the way Cody watched General Kenobi. That had lasted about until he first saw Aayla and felt his heart just… lurch in his chest. He’d thought something was wrong with him, that he’d experienced some kind of defect, previously unnoticed. But the medics all said he was fine, even though just seeing her made his heart beat faster.

They - all of his brothers - had to figure out how certain things worked on their own. The Kaminoans had not provided adequate information about interpersonal relationships, but they’d been designed to learn, adapt, overcome any situation they were thrown into.

Bly figured it should be marked as a success of their training when he heard, through the gossip network that sprung up almost immediately as more and more ships were deployed, that Cody had managed to spend an entire heat with General Kenobi. Word was that Kenobi had been all smiles the following day. 

Cody looked offended when Bly slapped him on the shoulder, the next time they met. Bly had thought they might come to blows, briefly, when he asked what it had been like. Bly decided to redirect by asking about battle plans for a joint mission.

He had noted, however, that Cody seemed a bit wistful when he explained that they had to maintain their professional distance, at least until the war was over.

Bly heard there was very little professional distance after Kenobi got drugged with something off-world, but there was shockingly little chatter about the event. The 212th shut down all attempts to pry into exactly what had happened, even their medics, who had to know. The only information came from a few droids, and they were useless, really.

Still, he heard a few months later that Cody had definitely lent a hand with Kenobi’s next actual heat, and nodded, impressed. He’d seen no reason to disbelieve Cody, when they met up briefly, and discussed the future.

They’d learned a lot about love and affection in a short period of time. It seemed to Bly, based on his experiences, that Cody somehow  _ had  _ managed to snag the heart of his General. 


	6. Cody and Obi-Wan Discuss His Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tied into the end of the story. Just a little snippet of Cody learning a little more about Obi-Wan's past.

Cody could have kicked himself for bringing up the Duchess again, after… after everything that had happened earlier. But he couldn’t stop himself from picking at it, even with Obi-Wan held close, both of them loose-limbed and heavy from his heat.

He’d thought - for nearly a year - that Obi-Wan and the Duchess had been, well. Lovers. He’d seen so much devastation written across Obi-Wan’s expression during the long years of the war. It had been so stark after Mandalore, after--

But their love, it seemed, had been a long ago thing. And it had ended when the Duchess set him aside. Cody tried to understand, laying there, watching Obi-Wan stare at the ceiling, how she ever could have done such a thing.

The fact that she wasn’t the only one only made the tightness in his chest worse. It was almost like a horror story, listening as Obi-Wan said, “And when I woke up… after, I’d - the baby was gone. And so was Master Jinn. And my next heat, he didn’t, well. He was elsewhere.”

Cody had a terrible urge to strike a man long dead and swallowed it back. Getting furious was certainly not going to help their current situation. Obi-Wan seemed half-dreamy about his history, in any case, all careful edges of control. But, then, Cody was used to that.

Obi-Wan, he’d learned, early, talked about his hurts as though they’d happened to someone else. So often the only physical signs he gave of distress was a small wobble to his hands, or an unsteadiness to his voice. 

Cody pressed a kiss to his temple, listening to whatever Obi-Wan could bear to tell him. He ached with the the thought that Obi-Wan would have - have kept an accord with  _ any  _ of them, these lovers he’d taken throughout his life. He’d have  _ settled _ for any scraps of consideration or affection and--

Cody couldn’t undo any of what they’d done. But he could take a different path, and he fully intended to. He had, from the very first time he’d seen Obi-Wan.


	7. Ahsoka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set around chapter 5-6. Ahsoka's views (and the other younglings, really) about Obi-Wan's life and history.

Ahsoka heard about Master Obi-Wan long before she was assigned as Padawan to Anakin. She’d heard about his heroics, frequently. There had been entire class periods dedicated to the solutions he’d found to various crises around the galaxy, throughout her early training. She’d, privately, always quite wanted to perform the Kenobi Maneuver

Those were the things she learned from her instructors. She learned other things, too, in whispers from her crèche mates, as they huddled under blankets when they just started to grow up. 

She’d heard all about his allergies, by the time her blood started to get warm for the first time. The stories were old, whispered down from one group to the next for so many years. As Ahsoka got older, she began to wonder how many of them were true, but…

But at thirteen, she’d believed every single one of the tales, about how Master Obi-Wan had once been a youngling like them, and almost died the first time he tried to take suppressants. She heard the medics did some experimental, awful things to him, with droids.

There were whispers, considerations about what it might have  _ been _ . Worries about what would happen if the suppressants didn’t work for them, if they’d have to do the same thing. Surely, Ahsoka reasoned, the healers had come up with a better solution by now.

She heard that he’d had to - to turn to some alphas in his crèche batch, because the droids didn’t work, which made her wrinkle her nose. Honestly, Ahsoka would rather have suffered through an allergic reaction than let any of the alphas her age touch her. Then again, she’d never liked alphas very much, never got the warm feeling in her gut that other omegas said they did.

At the time, Ahsoka hadn’t given  _ that  _ much thought, either. She didn’t, not until she met Barriss, and got more flutters than she knew what to do with.

There were stories about Master Obi-Wan’s old master, too. Some of them were horrible, and Ahsoka couldn’t even listen to them without wanting to punch something. She refused to believe the Council would let it happen the way some of the others claimed.

But...but it wasn’t hard to access information about Master Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship. There was proof, right there, that he’d been initially rejected. So, when the older younglings said that Master Jinn had only changed his mind after a heat…

Ahsoka hated the thought, looking at Master Yoda or Master Ti as they walked through the Temple and wondering. She couldn’t imagine they’d let… something like that happen. Especially not Master Plo Koon. But the stories persisted, lingered around through the air, warnings and rumors that felt like part of the fabric of growing up as an omega at the Temple.

They all knew Master Obi-Wan. Every single one of them. And Ahsoka thought they all worried, even if they claimed not to, that they would be as unlucky as he’d been.

The stories got harder to believe once she actually met Master Obi-Wan. He shone and he was so - so  _ strong _ . Capable and kind and skilled. He taught her how to sink fully into meditation, how to get rid of the nightmares that tried to crawl into her skull after a fight, after holding a dying man.

He held  _ her _ , when she could not get rid of all of them, not complaining even when she made his robes all messy, unable to stop the tears. “Sh,” he said, rubbing a hand down her back, and she felt - alongside the relief - a bitter kind of guilt about all the stories she’d heard about him, the ones  _ she’d  _ spread onward, whispered to the younger omegas in the crèche.


	8. Mace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mace's POV about the circumstances around chapter 2. He's....not very happy.

Mace fully expected a chiding about his control of his anger from Master Yoda, when all of this was over. He even acknowledged that he likely needed to follow the advice. He’d been simmering with sharp edged emotions since he’d first received the report from the healers, after all.

The healer spoke plainly during her report, with her mouth turned down and her eyes troubled. Mace listened to each word she said, taking deep, even breathes and resisting the urge to spring to his feet. They’d all known that Qui-Gon’s relationship with his last apprentice was… difficult. But…

Mace exhaled his frustrations - or at least enough of them to function - and requested the task of going to retrieve Qui-Gon. He tamped down his emotions when Qui-Gon finally arrived at his quarters, Obi-Wan walking at his side as though in a dream.

Mace hoped that there was a very good reason for the haunted look in Obi-Wan’s eyes.

#

There was, at the least, a  _ reason _ . Qui-Gon shared his thoughts with them in the Council chambers, the situation playing out in sharp-edged detail. The alternative choices would have - likely - led to less desired consequences. Sometimes, in the field, actions had to be taken, even if they were far less than ideal.

The issue could have been allowed to rest, based only on the facts.

But Qui-Gon’s memories showed not only the facts. Tinges of his emotions came through, too. Want and desire. Guilt. 

Mace flexed his fingers in and out as the questioning continued, jerking to his feet when Qui-Gon finally admitted that he’d had some type of vision about his apprentice and a child. “Speak to Padawan Kenobi, we shall,” Yoda said, before Mace could get a word out. “Hear his side of the story, we will.”

#

Obi-Wan answered all of their questions dutifully, thrumming with anxiety and confusion. There were still bruises, fading on his jaw. He did not feel comforted when he finally left the Council chambers, after hours of questioning.

Mace leaned back in his chair after Obi-Wan left. He scrubbed a hand over his face, a headache pounding at his temples, and said, “He should be moved to a different Master.  _ Force _ . I’ll train him, if necessary.”

“A Padawan of your own, already you have,” Yoda said, calmly, and Mace gritted his teeth together. He wasn’t sure, in that moment, why he couldn’t train two of them at once. They were both old enough to behave, he was sure, and Depa would--

“I have no Padawan at the moment,” Master Koon said, leaning forward in his chair. His emotions were all close to the surface, as well, though with far less anger than Mace currently felt. But, then, Plo Koon tended not towards anger. 

“I am not sure removing the boy is the wisest decision,” Master Ti said, her brow furrowed. “He is already… emotionally unbalanced. You felt his concern. To disrupt him further, at this time…” She shook her head.

“Master Jinn emotionally unbalances him,” Mace replied, scowling, and Shaak Ti sighed at him. The conversation spiralled out from there, into an argument, that ended, finally, with a decision that Mace neither liked nor approved of, but…

But he’d known he would not agree with all of the Council’s decisions, when he joined.

#

Mace resisted the urge to strike Qui-Gon, in the Council’s chambers, when he tried, once again, to bring up this supposed vision of his. His visions had ever caused problems. Or, perhaps it was only his willingness to presume that he understood what they meant.

Mace willingly admitted that his anger was too close to the surface of his thoughts, perhaps too often. He willingly admitted it was not a problem Qui-Gon had. But his arrogance had the potential to be just as destructive.

Still, the Council had ruled. All Mace could do was monitor Kenobi’s mental state, going forward. They were aware of the situation. Qui-Gon had been instructed to keep his attentions… appropriate. And, in any case, Kenobi seemed relieved not to have his training disrupted.

#

Kenobi looked on death’s door, when Qui-Gon brought him back to the Temple. All the color had gone from his skin. His breath rattled, weakly, in his chest. The healers swarmed around the pair of them, spiriting Kenobi away. Mace arrived in the healers’ halls in time to watch them fold around the boy, concern radiating outwards.

Qui-Gon stood there, as they worked, arms limp at his sides. He was covered with blood. Most of it appeared to be days old, as though he had not changed since… the attack. He’d provided only brief reports about what happened to the Council, during his trip back to Coruscant.

There were dark circles under his eyes, when he turned to stare over at Mace. He said, low and cracking, “You’ve wanted to strike me. For what I did.”

Mace glanced at him and then past, to the knot of the healers. That hot anger was not foremost in his thoughts. Kenobi’s Force signature wavered, and one of the Healers made a sharp sound, fully crawling up onto his bed to do  _ something _ .

“I think,” Qui-Gon said, dragging Mace’s attention back, “perhaps you should.”

“Your apprentice needs you right now,” Mace snapped, shaking his head and turning on his heel. “I’m going to bring Master Yoda here. Make yourself useful.”

By the time he returned, resisting the urge to bodily lift Yoda to carry him along, Qui-Gon was gone. 

He didn’t return for weeks.


	9. Quinlan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief post-story snippet from Quinlan's pov.

Quinlan had not thought he’d ever make his way back to the Temple, for a time. The darkness had closed around him and he had  _ allowed it _ . Embracing the shadows, all of his thick, terrible emotions, had been easy, shockingly so. And it had felt  _ good _ , at the time, to indulge in lust, in anger, in  _ hatred _ .

Clawing his way back out of that hole had been difficult. He was not sure, even, that he’d fully escaped it. Master Yoda said that such an escape was possible, but some days Quinlan doubted. He put in the work, anyway, trying to find his balance again in the Light.

Being back in the Temple helped. He could feel the relief and joy of his family, radiating outwards, sweet and bright. It clouded out so many of the darker emotions that beat against the inside of his chest.

And so many of the fears that had driven him away from the Light had dissipated. He no longer had to worry, constantly, about Aayla on the frontlines somewhere. She had come back to the Temple, hurt and exhausted, but whole. She visited him, often, and if her smile no longer held the same wild joy it once had, well… At least she was smiling, again.

He needed to ask about the alpha he smelled on her skin, but he decided to wait until he felt more settled in his skin. 

Others set aside time to spend with him, as well, even with the construction going on throughout the Temple and the reshaping of the galaxy at large to deal with. He startled, a bit, the first time Obi-Wan settled beside him in the Room of a Thousand Fountains.

Quinlan’s gut tightened, briefly, as he glanced over. The grass under his hands was soft and the sun overhead was warm, and so many years ago he had leaned over and brushed a kiss to Obi-Wan’s perfect mouth…

But that was almost another life ago. Sometimes, he let his thoughts wander, let himself consider how things could have been different, if he had not listened to his Master. He’d wanted, so badly, to take Obi-Wan to bed again - over and over and  _ over  _ again - but--

But Master Tholme had not been wrong to point out his attachment. He’d been young and not in control of his wants and desires. It was an issue he still struggled with. It was pleasant to imagine a life spent at Obi-Wan’s side, but perhaps he would have only fallen more quickly, perhaps he would have chosen obsessive attachment, perhaps…

Quinlan sighed, sinking back onto his elbows as Obi-Wan asked, “How are you feeling today?” 

“Better,” Quinlan said, and did not even have to lie. Some days he felt worse. Some days he recalled the power of the Dark and found it sweet. Some days, he wondered what it would be like if Dooku had survived, if he were still at the Count’s side, some days…

He shook those thoughts away. 

“I’m glad you’re back,” Obi-Wan said, and Quinlan’s chest ached, sharp and sweet, fleeting. Obi-Wan carried an alpha’s scent, too, these days. Had, since the early days of the war. Quinlan had grown used to it, accepted it.

He was still working on letting go of the last traces of want, so long held within his chest. “Me, too,” he said, breathing out the conflict and inhaling some of the peace exuded by Obi-Wan. He said, shaking away the clinging memories of the past, and said, “We should find Bant and Luminara. Have dinner, all of us, together.”


	10. Ahsoka and Cody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahsoka and Cody worry over Obi-Wan, late in the war. Mentioned Ahsoka/Barriss.

Ahsoka wondered, sometimes, if it was better or worse to have a person you loved beside you during a war. She only really started considering it after Geonosis, after she met Barriss and felt her heart kick over, felt an ache in her stomach that was all brand-new.

She and Barriss rarely saw one another. Master Luminara didn’t often work with the 501st. That meant that Ahsoka’s affections, as they grew - slowly but surely - were almost always from a distance. She worried about Barriss, missed her terribly, but…

But she also didn’t have to watch Barriss threatened, over and over. She didn’t have to stand there, always putting the greater good first, while Barriss suffered harm or injury. Ahsoka, visiting the medbay after another brutal fight to check on Master Obi-Wan and finding Cody sitting by his bed, hands balled to fists in his lap, wondered how the two of them stood it.

“Hey,” Ahsoka said, softly, because startling the troopers when they were in a defensive frame of mind tended to end poorly for everyone involved. She knew Cody wouldn’t hurt her, but she didn’t want to - to upset him, even more.

He blinked over at her, dark circles under his eyes, and nodded acknowledgment. “Are you hurt?” he asked, worry in his voice. She shook her head. She’d taken a few knocks, but nothing that required medical attention, nothing that wouldn’t heal on its own, if she just had a little bit of down time.

“I just wanted to check on him,” she said, moving close enough to look down at Obi-Wan’s still form. There were bandages around his forehead; they stank of bacta. He should have, by rights, been in a tank, but they were all full…

Ahsoka swallowed, heavily, curling her fingers around Obi-Wan’s cool hand, careful of the damage to his arm. “Has he woken up at all?” she asked, wondering, in the back of her head, what it would feel like to sit by Barriss’ bed while she was like this. To hold her hand and focus on the sound of her breathing, to worry that, at any moment, it might stop.

“Not yet,” Cody said, ragged. He stood and dragged the back of his knuckles across Master Obi-Wan’s cheek, a little transfer of scent, barely enough to notice through the stink of medicine and disinfectant.

“He will,” Ahsoka said, with a surety she didn’t actually feel. Master Obi-Wan had been… in awful shape when they found him. His signature in the Force was flat, with none of its usual vibrancy. She swallowed, squeezed his hand a little harder.

“Yes,” Cody said, putting his other hand on her shoulder, and he sounded like he had no doubts at all. She nodded, throat tight, and he did not complain when she leaned her shoulder against his armor. 

She stood there, pushing what energy she could spare into Obi-Wan, and decided that, perhaps, it was better to have the person you loved close, even if it cut up under your ribs.


	11. Obi-Wan and Cody Thinking About Each Other

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two snippets were both very short and thematically close, so I'm putting them together.

Obi-Wan knew, perfectly well, how Cody felt about him by the time his next heat rolled around, but there was still that edge of hesitation in the back of his mind, that voice saying that, perhaps this time….

After all, Satine had loved him, too, but not wanted him. Master Jinn had - it seemed - loved him, but not helped him. Anakin had--

Cody made a noise in his sleep, nuzzling a kiss against Obi-Wan’s shoulder even as he woke. And he did not try to go anywhere, through the hours that followed. He stayed, right where they were, tangled together, until Obi-Wan’s blood settled, until they fell back to sleep again, exhausted and tangled together.

The reflexive worry that Cody would disappear never went away, entirely. But it faded, over time. Some years, Obi-Wan barely even considered it, found it to be only a passing wonder when he felt the first stirrings of warmth. 

It was strange, to find himself… first not dreading his heats and then almost looking forward to them. They’d been a problem, for so much of his life. But tangling close to Cody, holding him and being held in return, built around all the old hurts. It could not undo them, but, Obi-Wan considered, kissing Cody as they moved together, perhaps it didn’t need to.

#

Cody had assumed, those first months spent fighting beside Obi-Wan, that his General had… someone. An alpha, waiting for him back on Coruscant. At the Jedi’s Temple. That had been the sense he got, when he’d carefully broached the issue, trying to determine how much of a problem the fierce affection growing in his chest was going to be.

He’d gone on believing that the wants spreading despite all his best efforts were pointless even as he helped Dal-Voe into the world, even as he held her in the medbay, in awe of her tiny hands and the brightness of her eyes, even as he kept watch over Obi-Wan, just in case. He’d known it wasn’t his place to do such a thing, really, but…

But he’d done it anyway.

And then he’d learned that, apparently, Obi-Wan didn’t have  _ anyone _ . Or, at least, said he didn’t. Skywalker certainly radiated interest in Obi-Wan’s direction. Perhaps, Cody thought, they simply hadn’t worked things out, yet.

They hadn’t worked things out by the time Obi-Wan’s heat arrived.

Cody woke up one morning just… aware of it. He inhaled and felt his skin flush from head to foot. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, head full of half-imagined desires, aching inside. His brothers looked as on-edge as he felt, when he went out into the  _ Negotiator _ , wound up tight.

Not one of them, though, made a move to approach Obi-Wan’s door. Cody considered showing similar restraint, but… But he’d heard heats weren’t pleasant for omegas to spend alone. And - and perhaps they could at least get someone to help Obi-Wan.

He considered a world where, perhaps, Obi-Wan asked for his help, and tried to dismiss the idea. And then he took a bracing breath, squared his shoulders, and went to go discuss the issue.


	12. Dal-Voe and Cody

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set far, far after the end of the story. Dal spends some time with one of her fathers.

Dal-Voe scrubbed the back of her arm across her face when she felt a warm, familiar presence getting closer. She’d known someone would find her, eventually. The Temple was gigantic, but there were only so many places she liked to go.

She sighed, staring out over the sprawling mass of Coruscant from her position on one of the ledges that ran around the roof. She’d managed to find a way out a few years ago and liked to retreat there; it made her feel like she could see the entire world.

“He deserved it,” she said, without even looking around. She felt Cody pause, a few steps away, not surprised that he’d risk the walk out onto the roof. He’d always been sure and steady, and, besides, she was there. She’d catch him if he slipped. 

“Rhom deserved to have his nose broken?” Cody asked, amused and chiding at the same time, and Dal-Voe winced. 

“I didn’t mean to break his nose,” she said, sighing and looking up as Cody finally reached her. He sat, easily, as though there were not so many hundreds of feet above any landing, soft or hard. “I just…” She sighed, and leaned forward into him, curling an arm around his shoulders and pressing her cheek to his.

He rumbled in his chest, a comforting little sound that chased away all the pressure in her head, and always had. She exhaled, closed her eyes, and admitted, “He said I ought not to keep scent-marking you. That it was wrong. Because you’re not… really my family.”

Cody stiffened, a little. He said, voice gruffer, “You can’t punch people just for being wrong, Dal.”

She laughed, just once, rubbing her forehead back and forth across his jaw. “He said I just do it for attention.” And the words had stung, at the time. The implication that she’d ever try to - to  _ lie  _ about how she cared about any of her family had felt like a barbed lash across her heart.

She  _ knew _ , perfectly well, that Anakin was her father by blood, and Force knew she loved him, too, even though she didn’t see him much. But Cody had always smelled like family to her, it had always felt right for him to be there in the Force, the same way it was with Obi-Wan and Kei-Donn, and…and even the twins--

“Well, he’s an idiot,” Cody said, his arm around her, solid and strong. Comforting. “You’re my girl, aren’t you?”

“I am,” she agreed, exhaling and snuggling closer, wishing, briefly, that she was still small enough to be just picked up and held. They sat there in silence, the wind cold and sharp so far up on the Temple, until the aching in her chest eased enough for her to continue, “It’s not just what he said.”

“Oh?” Cody asked, and she nodded against his shoulder, biting at her bottom lip. 

“I’ve been… worried. About other things.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with training with a Master, would it?” 

And she wrinkled her nose, always a bit irritated when her parents proved that they knew her so well. But it was a relief, too, to be known. To be understood. She shut her eyes once more, picking at the hem of her robe. “Yes. I know it’s early, but… but, I’ve been having the dreams again.”

Cody tightened his grip, noticeably. They rarely spoke of the dreams she had, sometimes, the ones that had left her screaming her way awake when she was younger. She’d gotten a better handle on them, with Master Yoda’s help, but… 

“I can feel a darkness coming,” she whispered, quiet, into the chilly air, the back of her neck prickling. “I can feel something awful, out there. Waiting for me.”

“Well, it can go on waiting,” Cody said, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair, his emotions curling around her, a comforting wave of determined protection. “And if it tries to come for you, it’ll have to go through me, first.”

And the words should have been a comfort. They were, even. But there was a pit, in the base of Dal-Voe’s stomach, that informed her that maybe, perhaps, that was what she was most afraid of. She shuddered. She needed to convince Master Ahsoka to start training her, quickly.


	13. Dal-Voe and Korkie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set shortly after the end of the story. Dal-Voe meets a half-sibling.

Korkie felt an itching on the back of his neck for no discernable reason. He’d come out to the Senate gardens for a breath of fresh air. Bo-Katan had made serving as envoy to the Republic sound like an important responsibility, when she gave him the job. He was beginning to think it was nothing but a headache.

Mandalore had not joined the Republic - Korkie doubted, privately, that they ever would - but even his aunt could see the use of keeping… lines of communication more open than they had been in the past.

Hence his placement on the planet, far from home and his parents and--

And the back of his neck would not stop itching. He sat aside the padd he was looking at, turning to look over his shoulder, expecting to find a droid or perhaps an aide from one of the Senators.

There was a girl. Staring at him, with a curious look on her face. She had an absolute mop of curls and bright eyes, a scattering of freckles over her nose. She was dressed like one of the Jedi, though she couldn’t have been more than six, perhaps seven.

Korkie cleared his throat, when the girl just went on staring at him, and said, “Ah… hello, there. Are you...lost?”

The girl frowned at him. “No,” she said, “I always know where I am.” And then she walked up, tilting her head to the side, still staring at him, her hazel eyes narrowing. “I’m Dal-Voe. Who are you?”

Korkie looked around, wondering if, perhaps, the Jedi just allowed their children to roam, free-range, across all of Coruscant. She certainly seemed to have no adult with her. He said, “I’m Korkie Kryze, are you sure you’re supposed to--”

“You feel familiar, Korkie Kryze,” she interrupted, coming to a stop before him, both hands on her hips. 

“I feel what?” Korkie asked, looking around again, and the girl reached out and put a hand on his face, turning his head back. He blurted, “I beg your pardon, miss, but--” and she frowned at him, something about the set of her mouth….abruptly very familiar.

He cut off, gaping quite unlike the professional diplomat he was supposed to be. There was something familiar, too, about the shape of her eyes and brows. Something he’d seen before, quite often. Almost every time he looked in a mirror, in fact.

And Korkie had never interrogated, much, his connection to Master Kenobi. His fathers had told him, when he was much younger and grown curious about how, exactly, two alphas had come to have a child, about his adoption. They’d told him, after her death, of the truth regarding his Aunt Satine. The rest had fallen into place when he’d come to Coruscant. 

It had been… interesting, to learn more about his background, but his parents were, he knew, still back on Mandalore, helping with the restructuring efforts, pushing back at some of the more… inappropriate policies put forward by Bo.

He cleared his throat and said, to the frowning girl before him, “I don’t suppose your last name is Kenobi?”

She grinned at him, all at once, showing a missing tooth right in the front of her mouth. “That’s right,” she said, her eyes widening as she asked, “How’d you know that, mister?”

He shook his head, wondering how to even go about explaining their… connection, but he was interrupted in that moment by Senator Amidala running into the little courtyard, her long skirts hitched up in one hand, her expression tense as she blurted, “Dal-Voe! There you are! Do you  _ know  _ how worried I’ve been?”

Dal-Voe looked over at her, expression abruptly abashed, and said, “No, but, look. I found someone interesting.”


	14. Anakin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anakin muses on some of his choices.

Anakin was twelve, the first time he realized what was happening when his Master slipped out for a few hours and came back smelling like some other alpha. He was sixteen before it started to really bother him, not that Obi-Wan seemed to notice. The tension in his spine made him feel uncomfortable, left him on edge, sometimes for days at a time.

Once, he ran into an alpha smelling like Obi-Wan, the following day, and he - he hadn’t done  _ anything _ , but his knuckles had ached. The Chancellor said it was normal, when Anakin broached the subject with him; he always seemed so willing to listen. The Chancellor said it was only natural, and Anakin figured he’d know, even if he were a beta.

It certainly felt natural, years later, to press close to Obi-Wan, to help him out in that horrible kriffing prison, even if Anakin couldn’t actually imagine a worse way to spend a heat. They’d had to be so quiet, barely even moving, but--

But he’d done it, kept Obi-Wan safe, and even made him come, made him feel good. That had left a warm, spreading feeling of pride in Anakin’s chest in the days that followed and even after their escape. He’d felt… confident, and justifiably so, he thought.

That confidence had still been there when he was sent off to guard Padmé. And she was so beautiful, so gentle and smart. And his entire chest hurt, when she looked up at him with her shining eyes, the galaxy rearranging itself as she slid towards the center of it.

He’d loved her since he was nine years old, and he knew that as soon as he saw her again. He loved her, deeply and painfully, and felt the stars align the first time she kissed him. He didn’t hesitate or think twice about marrying her, about sweeping her off of her feet and carrying her into her - their - fine bedrooms and…

And it was different, being with her. Padmé was so soft, she needed a delicate touch and he felt guilty, briefly, about dragging his callused fingers over her skin, but she gasped and groaned and seemed to like it and--

And no one was there to stop her from being as loud as she liked, holding onto him as they tangled together. Anakin kissed her, after, and couldn’t imagine ever being so happy as he felt, wrapped in cool, soft sheets, with the starlight painted across their skin.

He didn’t consider, well, anything else, really, until they were in orbit over Coruscant. Padmé kissed him, fast and sweet, before she had to leave for the Senate, and Anakin still felt the pleasure of it as he walked through the Temple, some of his wild joy tempered a bit with each step. Still, he was sure he’d done the right thing, he’d - he’d done the only thing, he couldn’t imagine being without Padmé, she was so shining and perfect and--

The world moved under Anakin’s feet, when he stepped into the quarters he shared with Obi-Wan and took a single breath. The world moved as he looked across at Obi-Wan - he’d cut his hair, while Anakin was away - and he felt the first sharp, stinging tinges of regret.


	15. Cody - Falling in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The moment Cody fell in love was requested :D

Cody had been created to fight, to wreak havoc on a battlefield, to handle any and every situation. Unfortunately, the Kaminoans had given him approximately no training on how to deal with his current task.

They had - somehow - won the battle. He still wasn’t entirely sure how. The odds had been stacked against them, but they’d managed to drive back the clankers for the moment, buying enough time to breathe and patch up their wounds.

He’d reported to the bridge to discuss the repairs needed by the  _ Negotiator _ , planning to get some bunk time after he visited the infirmary. He hadn’t expected his General to give him command and to then, quite without warning, to groan with agony.

Cody thought Obi-Wan was going to the ground, thought a clanker had somehow gotten onto the bridge and done him harm. He caught Obi-Wan before he could sink any closer to the ground, looking for injuries, noting a sudden spread of wet around their feet, and--

And Cody had read everything he could find, about pregnancies, after he learned of his General’s condition. He called for medics without thinking, guiding Obi-Wan back and helping him sink down against the wall. He looked… exhausted, already, with dark circles under his eyes and pain graven into his expression. And he squeezed Cody’s hand, hard, while gritting his teeth through another wash of hurt.

Everything that followed was a blur, to Cody. He tore at his armor to get it off and out of the way, because he’d read about newborns and how fragile they were. He didn’t want to - to hurt the child, even the idea was horrific.

Later, his thoughts would circle back around to seeing his General so exposed, but at the time it barely registered, and it wasn’t exactly…. Titillating. Not with Obi-Wan tensed tight with agony, trembling with it, panting out instructions, steady through an event both terrifying and wonderful, all at once.

And then there was a child, wailing in Cody’s hands, tiny and soft and red, waving arms and legs around. He looked down at the girl, hurriedly wrapping her in his blacks - she had to be cold, it was always cold on the ship - and didn’t quite know what exactly was causing the tightness in his throat, but…

But it was difficult, to hand the baby over to his General, who curled an arm around her and cooed to her, brushing fingers across her cheek. He looked exhausted, his hair plastered to his forehead, sitting in a mess of blood and fluid, his robes all askew, holding his baby, and--

And Cody growled, unthinking and automatic, when the medics arrived and started shouting about bringing Obi-Wan to the infirmary immediately, one of them moving to lift him. His brother blinked over at him, startled - Cody could not, actually, remember ever growling at anyone before - and drew back a step.

Which was the correct choice of action, Cody realized, flexing out his fingers from the fist they’d balled into. Obi-Wan made a soft, pained sound, when Cody carefully worked an arm around his shoulders and under his knees, lifting him as gently as possible. His head lolled sideways onto Cody’s shoulder, hair soft on bare skin, and Cody didn’t have a name for what he was feeling, in that moment, didn’t figure it out for some time, but warmth spread and flowed through his veins as he walked through the halls of the  _ Negotiator _ .


	16. Healer's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The pov of the healers during the war.

Rinda Hulies had served in the Healers’ Rooms since even before her Knighting. She had a gift with mending damaged flesh, with drawing the Force close and soothing hurts of all kinds. That gift had been sorely tested, during the long years of the war.

She’d lost so many she cared for, so many she tended personally. They could only do so much, and the terrible machines used by the enemy tore so many Jedi and troopers to little more than shreds.

Rinda grew accustomed to weeping in the scant moments she had to rest during the war. She knew she was far from alone. There was simply nothing but death and hurt and despair, for so long, without end, pressing down on them all relentlessly. So many days, she could do nothing but bend over her hands, her throat raw from weeping.

It made it harder to heal effectively, which had led to more deaths, which made it yet harder, which--

Rinda shook those thoughts aside. She did not know how much longer they could have gone on as they were, but that was past. The war had ended and she had time, now, to visit the mind healers, to slowly repair all the damage to her thoughts and connection with the Force.

The war had ended, and not everyone came to the Healers’ Halls to die.

She remembered when Master Kenobi had been a child, recalled patching him up after sparring accidents, recalled the way he’d gone still and far away in the Force when he came to the Healers, pregnant and only barely eighteen. She had been there, when Master Jinn brought him back, almost dead, so much of his life’s blood spilt.

Rinda had been there, also, when he’d birthed a child barely two years later, a healthy boy who she had never seen again, after he left the Temple. Master Kenobi had been only a Padawan, then, quiet during the delivery, with circles under his eyes.

He’d felt more… lost than hurt, during the process. Jedi tended to handle pain well, but she’d been concerned about his reactions. She’d not been the only one, but there was only so much help they could provide.

The mind healers had done more, after he returned without the child. She’d noted, from a distance, when he began to smile again, when the tight spool of his signature in the Force relaxed, just a little. Still, there’d ever been a shadow over him, a tinge of sadness.

Rinda did not feel it, when Master Kenobi visited the healers after the war, the Commander of his battalion following along. She did not feel it as he grew round with child, or even when he came down to the Healers’ Halls, explaining that his contractions had gotten quite close together.

Rinda shook her head, smiling, relieved that the Healers’ Halls were places of new life, once more, instead of only misery and death.


End file.
